"Mr. Warm, the Marshal's intention is to invite you to sit at the headquarters castle."
Deep Cold, southern border wall.
Responsible for serving as cannon fodder at the southern border, the Chief Historian Stephen stood respectfully behind Nathanael Warm with both hands carrying a cup of hot tea.
People of martial arts do not favor the cold; this is common knowledge.
No one knew when, but martial artists began to carry insulated cups on their belts, steeping wolfberry water within.
Drinking while battling.
"Thank you, but I don't like drinking tea." Nathanael Warm did not even look at Stephen, instead he took out his own insulated cup from his belt, unscrewed the lid, and took a small sip.
The aroma of wolfberries immediately wafted into Stephen's nose.
Good stuff!
It's said that, after drinking it, one can feel the mysterious power from the East.
"What about the Marshal's invitation..." he asked again.
